


A Love Beyond Time

by AchillesLament (11Mydesign11), Wendigobunny



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fate & Destiny, Hannigram - Freeform, Jealous Will Graham, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Past Lives, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, mentions of Abigail, mhbb2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21525436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/11Mydesign11/pseuds/AchillesLament, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wendigobunny/pseuds/Wendigobunny
Summary: Hannibal Lecter begins having dreams of blue eyes and dark curls, the main focus of a series of dreams in which he experiences former lives with this man. A meeting at the behest of Jack Crawford proves to be quite surprising when he meets Will Graham, the man who shares the face of the one in his dreams, but are they dreams or are they memories?
Relationships: Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett/Igor Stravinsky, Galahad/Tristan (King Arthur 2004), Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Raki, Prince Charmont (Ella Enchanted)/Draco (Clash of the Titans), Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 194
Collections: Hannibal Fic Recs (Hannigram), MHBB2019





	A Love Beyond Time

**Author's Note:**

> **A big thanks to the Mods with MHBB & to our very talented Artist @mferret9! <3 **

A beautiful man with soft silken curls was the first image. He was on a white horse, smiling back and speaking of killing not being to his liking. Hannibal couldn’t remember his name, couldn’t clearly make out all of the details, save for his hair, striking blue eyes, beard, and his horse, but he was so exquisite that the dreary setting was made brighter just by his presence. A hawk flew overhead, and blood clung thickly to the air as they trotted off into the distance. The only thing he could remember apart from those aspects was the amount of unshakable love he felt then; a quiet knowing he couldn’t place.

The doctor rose from his bed and then made it up, getting dressed and ready for the day ahead. After breakfast, he headed to none other than Jack Crawford’s office. Helping the F.B.I. certainly had its advantages. Another look into the unknown, so to speak. With a mind able to run on multiple trains of thought at once, Doctor Lecter found himself recalling his dream. While not entirely clear, it was one of the more prominent ones he’d had in ages. Ah, but it was silly, he knew, but insightful. Perhaps a reminder that he was alone because he was unique. 

After theorizing with Agent Crawford, Hannibal heard the door open, and when he turned around to see who entered, he couldn’t help but stare. Introductions were made, and then it was back to business. Will Graham. It was harder than usual to keep his focus but he was nothing if not extremely disciplined. He turned back to the display board of photos, ones with girls missing or dead, and kept a straight face as Jack continued talking about the latest. Then Will spoke of taste.

Unable to help himself, Hannibal looked back at him, “Do you have trouble with taste?” 

Will huffed through tight lips and flared nostrils, hands firmly in his pockets as he paced back towards Jack’s desk. He kept his gaze at the floor, only briefly looking at the other man. “My thoughts are often not very tasty,” he replied.

“Nor mine. No effective barriers,” Hannibal stated placidly, continuing to secretly admire the work on the wall. He glanced back but only briefly, the imagery of wilder chocolate curls flashing behind his eyes. Astounding. Will Graham already had managed to captivate him more so than anyone had ever done. 

“I need barriers to survive. Barriers are good. In fact the more, the better,” Will said, sitting at Jack’s desk with his cup of coffee. He took a sip, glancing back at the board and at the doctor. He couldn’t get a read off him at all. It was like he was completely closed off. It made Will curious, but a little put off at the same time, and he could feel the man’s direct stare on him once he sat in the seat beside him.

“I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love,” Hannibal said, looking at Will intensely, thinking of how unappalled he was by his own dream just last night. The lack of eye contact was curious, but not a surprise. “Not fond of eye contact are you, Will? Harder for one to penetrate the barriers you work so diligently to build when they can’t catch a glimpse.”

“Eyes are distracting. You see too much, or not enough. People tend to have something to hide, and I can see it, and wonder why, wonder what else is behind them, and further, deeper. You start on the surface and sink down, like quicksand. It starts with a burst vein, ends with a poorly timed question, and you can tell they lied about a text message that didn’t come from their wife. I don’t need to know all that. I have enough with my teaching and now, apparently, _this_ ,” Will answered, his words coming out clipped and bitter, short. He sighed, distantly aware he was being rude to someone he just met, but it was just as well he didn’t make a good impression on whoever this _Doctor Lecter_ was. 

“Now, then, Will. You could at least pretend to be amiable towards the good Doctor. He’s trying to help us,” Jack said in a scolding voice.

“So am I,” Will snapped back, then eased back and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “With _the case_.”

"As am I, Will. Analyzing is what we do. Not only on the task at hand but a myriad of other avenues that present themselves so overtly that most others do not see they exist. They are not like us. I cannot shut mine off anymore than you can shut yours off."

Hannibal was utterly delighted and unaffected by the surly tone coming from Will. It only urged him on more. 

It made sense, but he wasn’t willing to accept it just yet. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, Doctor Lecter, stick to analyzing the killer we are looking for, not me.” He paused to look at Jack, who was giving him raised eyebrows before glancing at Hannibal. 

Suddenly he felt uncomfortable and trapped. Too hot, like a mouse in an experimental lab.

“Wait a minute. You are here for the case, right? Just who’s profile are you working on? It better not be me.”

“Just calm down, Will. Hannibal just wants to help,” Jack offered unconvincingly.

Hannibal sat silently, a small smile on his face as he watched Will's defensiveness. Chaos was always amusing and had a beauty in it. 

“Just...j-just don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.”

He rose awkwardly, coffee jostling as he spilled some on his khakis. Embarrassed, he tried brushing it off and turned. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go teach a class on psychoanalysis.” Will stormed out, though it wasn’t quite the show he’d hoped for. 

Once Will left, Hannibal turned to Jack. "Will has pure empathy, Jack. He can assume your point of view, mine, or others that might scare him. That is why he is perhaps more resistant to my analysis than most would be. But I am more than confident that I can help good Will see our killers face."

“He’s my ace in the hole, Doctor. Talk to him. Stay close. I want to make sure he doesn’t shatter to pieces before we find the maniac killing these girls.” Jack narrowed his eyes grimly at Lecter and nodded. “I’m putting my faith in the two of you.”

***

That night when Hannibal laid down to sleep, he stared at the ceiling instead. Thoughts of Will filled his head, and he smiled to himself. An idea occurred, especially since Jack would be disposed in court day the next day. Soon he was fast asleep and once again he was left to dream. It was the same time period as the first, only this time they were in battle together. He could clearly see the face of the man he’d seen the night before.

It was Will. Longer, more errant curls, and that beard, but it was him. Quite peculiar indeed. The dream felt stronger than the first, a realism he’d never experienced in any other. When he woke, he remembered venturing into an abandoned barn after their victory, where they shared a heated, unplanned kiss. Perfect. Hannibal made a note to analyze it further later on, but right now, he had to go see a certain surly profiler.

***

At eight Doctor Lecter knocked on the door, a bag with breakfast and coffee ready for consumption. 

Will shuffled to the door, sleepy-eyed and none too pleased at being awoken so early, though truth be told, it was time to get up anyway. He’d already hit the snooze twice on his phone. It was just that sleep had been so fitful last night, and he was exhausted. He opened the door a crack to see who it could possibly be.

Blinking in surprise, he finally spoke. “Where’s Jack?” he grumbled in greeting.

"In court, the adventure will be yours and mine today," Hannibal said with a smile, looking past Will as a hint to be let in. When an invitation wasn't given, he wet his lips, airing how handsome the profiler looked half asleep. "May I come in?"

Without answering, Will stepped aside and flipped on the lights, hunting for his pants and pulling them on over his boxers. Seeing that Hannibal was carrying coffee already along with two other parcels, he looked at him puzzled.

“I was going to go grab coffee on the way in. You brought some?” he asked. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sitting at a small table by the window. He figured he’d throw on a flannel shirt after coffee and food. This was about as ready as he’d ever be anyway. Running a hand through his slept in curls, he looked up at Hannibal confused.

"I did, along with breakfast as well. I never trust a stranger to prepare my meals as I'm very careful about what I put into my body," Hannibal explained, watching Will from his periphery as he set up the food. He sat down, licking his lips. "A little protein scramble to start the day. Eggs and sausage."

Will glanced up at the well-put-together doctor with some skepticism. He seemed to be trying so hard, and he was wary, but at the same time he felt slightly guilty giving the guy that much of a hard time. All the same, better to stay focused on the job at hand. 

That first bite though. Heaven. Flavors exploded against his tongue and the meat melted like butter, savory and rich in all the right ways. He couldn’t describe it. Holding back a moan, he just stopped a moment, eyes closed, before washing it down with a swig of coffee. Hannibal watched, awestruck, appreciating Will's reaction. 

Shit, even the coffee was better than the oil-like swill Will was used to.

“It’s good. It’s _very_ good,” he muttered simply, blue eyes flickering up with a nod and a small smile. There was no way Hannibal could know, but for Will Graham, at this stage of a friendship, that was bold praise.

"Thank you, Will," Hannibal responded as he smiled and licked his lips. It felt like praise, certainly, even if he hadn't gotten him all figured out yet. He took a bite, chewed, and swallowed, then dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. After a sip of coffee, he canted his head. 

"Have you been recreating the killer's fantasies in your mind? What do you think about the woman mounted on the antlers?"

Will leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes focused on the wood grain of the table as he spoke. “Whoever killed that woman in the field isn’t Jack’s Willy Wonka. Our serial killer isn’t interested in field kabuki. He’s more sensitive, and deeply conflicted. Part of him might even want to stop, but he can’t. The woman in the field? That was the work of a true psychopath. And it was meant for us to find like that,” he said animatedly, fork in hand waving as he spoke. His gaze flickered up to Hannibal to gauge his response.

"He showed you a negative to shed light on the positive. Do you think he's trying to help you then? Will he kill this way again?" Hannibal asked, his eyes meeting Will's with interest. "A sensitive psychopath will be quite hard to catch."

“It was practically gift wrapped. He’s leading us, showing us - me - what to look at, what not to look for. If he is trying to help us, it’s immaterial. He’ll never kill this way again, and I doubt he’ll ever be caught. That kind of killer is a different beast entirely. Leaves no trace, no patterns to track. Flawless. The Shrike has problems. A lot of them,” Will sighed. 

"What about you, Will? Do you ever have any problems?" Hannibal asked with a gleam in his keen eyes. The empath's abilities were astounding. Breathtaking actually and Doctor Lecter was entirely smitten. Even had he not dreamt those dreams, he was falling already. 

Will rolled his eyes and exhaled through flared nostrils, totally oblivious to any admiration on Hannibal’s part. “No,” he quipped dryly.

"Of course not. We're just alike. Problem free," Hannibal said, a chuckle on his lips. He gestured towards Will's food. "Finish your breakfast."

***

Everything after that one meal lead to Will catching the Shrike. Seeing Abigail with her throat cut, and how Will handled it, only intrigued Doctor Lecter more. The way he’d tried so hard to save her; were he not had been there to apply the appropriate pressure, the girl would be dead now. But her life served a purpose. A higher agenda that perhaps, might assist in helping the empath to realize his potential. 

That night, after they’d both visited her in the hospital, Hannibal dreamt another dream. Battle. Dying. Will was there as he bled out, very much mirroring Abigail’s near death, only by a different mean and with a different result. Hannibal woke up just as he was about to take his last breath in that dream. The thought of his own eventual demise did not frighten him, it gave him a sense of freedom, and the fact that Will had been there holding him as he’d prepared for what comes after, made it all the more beautiful.

Over the next few days they both stayed by Abigail’s bedside, more Will than Hannibal admittedly, so it was no surprise when Jack Crawford met with Doctor Lecter asking for him to give Will an assessment. He’d gotten far too close, according to Doctor Bloom, and in order to stay in the field, he knew Special Agent Graham would reluctantly agree to therapy.

Another two days passed and it was the evening of Will’s appointment. Half past seven. Doctor Lecter went to open his office door to see him sitting on the couch. “Will, please. Won’t you come in?” 

Will had removed his brown sport coat and walked in, smoothing back his chocolate curls as best he could. “Thank you, Doctor. I’m sure you’re aware this wasn’t exactly my idea,” he said awkwardly, deciding it best to rip that band aid off right away. He entered the sanctum of Hannibal’s office and had to work to not gasp. It was impressive. Walls filled with books, beautiful art, tasteful, expensive furniture. He should have expected nothing less from a man who brought a fully cooked gourmet breakfast to him the second time they met, yet he was still surprised.

"You're quite welcome, Will," Hannibal said as he eyed the profiler. He looked at his ass, pants stretch taut over the round, muscular curve of his cheeks and licked his lips before closing the door. With a smooth, elegant gesture, he directed Will to one of the chairs, though he didn't mind where he sat. An exception to that rule he had for other patients. "Please, won't you have a seat."

Will felt a strange warmth wash over him at Hannibal’s tone of voice, and felt as though he were staring at him, but shook it off quickly. That couldn’t be right - why would anyone be staring at a rumpled guy like himself, least of all a refined man like Doctor Lecter? Still blushing self consciously, Will draped his jacket over the back of one of Hannibal’s chairs and sat down, leaning back. Damn, it was more comfortable than it looked. “Thanks,” he said simply, and glanced up at him with a small smile. 

Hannibal looked at where Will placed his jacket; had it been anyone else, he would have considered it rude. They would have been added to his menu Not Will Graham. No, he wanted him to be alive but that did not mean he didn't have certain things in mind. Right now he was more focused on how happy he was to see him. He walked over to his desk and retrieved a piece of paper. "You are able to return to the field and are more or less sane."

Will’s nostrils flared in a noiseless chuckle as he raised his eyebrows and stared at Hannibal with an expression of incredulity. “Are you rubber stamping me, Doctor? We haven’t even started a conversation yet. You’ve no idea if I’m of sound mind or not,” he cracked, the sarcasm thick in his voice.”You never know, I might just be full on certified insane.”

Hannibal smiled, his head tilted in curious amusement as Will said what he had. He went his lips in contemplation. "I am, yes. This way we can have conversations that will be uninhibited by pesky paperwork," he explained, and then went to sit down across from Will. "The line between sanity and insanity is often a fine one. We can figure it out together and this way, Uncle Jack will let you return to work. Abigail is going to need us both."

At the mention of the young girl that he had just orphaned, Will’s eyes clouded over in a darkening storm. “She deserves more than we can give her. Well, more than I can. But I don’t know anyone else better equipped to understand her. Everyone else looks at her like a charity project or a science experiment.” He ran his hands over the arm rests and gripped the ends tight, examining the veins on his arms. “I don’t know if I have it in me to help her the way she needs me to.”

"We are all she has left, Will. Her fathers. Perhaps together we can help to steer her through the murky waters of recovery," Hannibal intimated as he crossed one leg over the other. "But first we must insure that we are both ready. Tell me, how did it feel killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs?"

“Just. Killing him felt like justice. I...I _liked_ it. Maybe I should’ve stuck to fixing boat motors in Louisiana,” he said bitterly. “I don’t know how I should feel. I’m ostensibly a murderer myself now, just as guilty as the ones I catch. What’s the difference now? The line is blurred more and more.” He looked up at the Doctor through his lashes. 

"Is God a murderer, Will? Killing feels good to him, be it just or otherwise, and he does it all the time. Just the other day he dropped a roof on his worshipers while they sang him a hymn."

Hannibal leaned forward with interest, his just faintly moving his head from side to side like a jungle cat stalking and learning his prey. 

Will could feel Hannibal’s eyes on him. Somehow though, his feelings were shifting from discomfort to curiosity. He was focused on the case, but curious too about the Doctor. What did he mean? “You think God felt _good_ about that?” he asked, somewhat surprised at the thought.

"He felt powerful," Hannibal surmised, with conviction as he looked into Will's beautiful eyes. The scent of him was familiar, warm, yet strong. He couldn't help but to savor it, even from where he sat. "And are we not made in his image?"

“I guess that depends on who you ask,” Will answered, and couldn’t help the warmth that washed over his face. Was Hannibal staring too closely? Was he looking at him a certain way? He couldn’t be, not a refined, elegant man like Doctor Lecter. Will took his glasses off, shook his head, and rubbed his eyes. “Could I...could I get a glass of water?” he asked. 

"Certainly. I can also offer you some wine, if you'd prefer that," Hannibal explained, a handsome smile on his face. As he rose, a flash happened, more of the same dream from before. Beyond the banter, past the cases, or well, before, there was a current between them. The hum of words spoken before. It was as if a long shattered teacup was coming back together. 

Wine. He wasn’t sure it was the best idea, but it sure sounded good. He nodded readily. “You’re the doctor here. I’d love some, thanks,” he said, managing a soft smile. He pulled a bottle of aspirin from his pocket and popped a couple in his mouth, downing them dry. 

"One glass will not be a problem," Hannibal said, sniffing and watching Will take the pills. He went to pour then each a glass and then returned with a smile. "I thought a nice pink would go well tonight. Tell me, have you been having headaches long?"

“A few weeks, but it’s nothing. Just the stress of the job. I’m fine, really. Jack is just worried about me getting _too close_ or some shit on these cases. He just doesn’t want to lose his show pony.” Will took the glass with a grateful sigh. Blue eyes darted up suddenly at Hannibal when he brushed his fingers against the older man’s. Was that spark something he alone felt? 

It wasn't. Hannibal felt it too. The slow lick of his lips was indicative of it and a gesture that he let be seen before sitting back down. With a nod, he swirled, sniffed, and tasted his wine slowly, contemplating. "I think Jack sees you like a fragile little teacup. His best China only used for special occasions."

Will’s eyebrows went up as he looked up in surprise to see if Hannibal was serious. Seeing that he appeared to be, he broke into a laugh, deep from his belly, rough and honest, and he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d laughed that way. He didn’t know what to say at first, and finally he paused, still smiling, this time studying Hannibal’s face in earnest. 

“How do _you_ see me?”

Hannibal treasured that laugh, his eyes trailing down from the way Will's lips curled as he laughed, to the bob of his Adam's apple. He smiled. Then his face took on a serious, sincere expression. "The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by."

Will was confused at the odd analogy - it was endearing and insightful in a way that he didn’t expect from a colleague. It made him feel exposed...uncomfortable. But why? Wasn’t it part of the human condition, to want to be seen and understood? Not for Will. Anyone who looked inside would shudder at the horrors behind his eyes. They’d see him for the monster he was terrified he was becoming, and run. 

His expression of mirth faded softly into suspicion, and he looked back down at his coffee, taking a long drink. After swallowing, he cleared his throat. “S’long as you keep it professional, Doctor.”

"We are simply socializing like adults. God forbid we become friendly," Hannibal said after another few bites. Will was very guarded. This Doctor Lecter knew already. It would be a fun challenge chipping away at his carefully constructed forts. 

Will grimaced and rolled his eyes sarcastically, finishing his food.This guy would give up soon enough, like everyone else did, eventually.

***

The clock at his bedside flashed 1:34am, and Will lay on his side, drenched in sweat. As his eyes darted back and forth beneath closed lids, he dreamed deeply…

A noisy bar, dirt floor, dirt everywhere really, dimly lit with torches on the walls. Soldiers in clothes reminiscent of the days of King Arthur were laughing bawdily, draughts in hand with bosomy women in their laps. He was holding a small dagger in his hand, and someone hit him playfully in the shoulder, goading him to take aim at a board in front of him. Will tossed it forward and it hit the center, dead on. The others cheered for him, and he smiled, and looking round, his eye caught the man next to him. 

He was casually eating an apple with a knife one-handed, and without batting an eye, threw it at the board. It hit the hilt of Will’s dagger, and they both reverberated as everyone gasped around them. “Well done,” the man said until another called out, “Tristan!”, behind him clapping a congratulatory hand on his back. He had long, shaggy hair tied in braids, a heavy beard, and tattoos on his sharp cheekbones. But those eyes, the cheekbones, the smile, were all unmistakable, regardless of what they called him. It was _Hannibal_. 

***

Another case and another dream for Doctor Lecter… or rather _two_. The first was set in the same span of time as the first, he threw a knife to the end of Will’s, showing he was a bit more skilled, but it was symbolic. He’d set his apple on the table, torches burning and congratulations from their friends. He walked over to his lover and clapped a hand on his shoulder roughly. “Well done.” 

The next was as though time skipped forward, Hannibal was the consulting surgeon for a king. His lover had well kept curls. The Earl of Essex but Hannibal knew it was Will. Their love was in secret and their bond was initially of the mind, much like now. Still, such affairs weren't permitted under the mad King's rule, especially not since the Earl was the spouse of the King’s. They were both risking much but it was worth it. 

Hannibal awoke from his dream just as he was about to be beheaded for their trespass, and sat with his coffee. He contemplated. These were not dreams, but memories. 

***

After following a trail of blood, so to speak, Hannibal stood outside an ambulance along with Will, Jack, Beverly, and others, waiting to make their move. 

It was clear once they did that the man, Devon Silvestri, inside had been performing very poor surgeries on his victims to remove organs, and then tried to save them. They had come upon that very thing now and only Hannibal could save the victim. The agents took Silvestri into custody and Hannibal put on gloves to begin working. He did so expertly, sleeves rolled to the elbows, but he could feel eyes on him, so he looked up to see Will staring right at him. 

It felt like being struck by lightning. There was something in Hannibal’s eyes, and it was like he’d been seeing the man in his dreams, right here in front of him now. It felt strange, almost too intimate, the way he looked through him, into his soul. He didn’t feel the way his knees nearly buckled, his lips parting softly, eyes glazing over as he stared. 

“You alright, buddy?” someone asked him, bumping into him and shaking him from his reverie. 

“Yeah...yeah. Sorry.” He rubbed his eyes with the side of his arm and approached the ambulance as Jack and the team of agents led the man away in handcuffs. 

He knew Hannibal was focused on saving the victim’s life. He looked remarkable, sleeves rolled up, a bead of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead, veins bulged in concentration. Calm and collected but powerful. He held the man’s entire life, literally in his hands.

Had he known Hannibal before...before they met?

***

Will was running, though he didn’t know why. The sun was shining, and he was running down a country road through hills, towards what looked like a castle out of some fairy tale. He stopped, confused, and looked down at himself; he was adorned in leather pants of all things, tall, horse riding boots, and some frilly shirt and royal blue vest. “What the fuck…” he started to say, until he heard screaming and saw a swarm of girls coming over the hill running straight for him. What were they saying? Were they chasing him? On instinct, he began running the direction he had been originally.

“Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaar! Char! Char!!” he heard behind him, high pitched and hysterical female screams. 

“Shit!” he huffed, booking it for the ornate, gilded gate. He was panting hard by the time he got to the other side, where a tall, bronzed, strikingly handsome and familiar face was waiting for him. 

It was Hannibal, but not as he’d ever imagined seeing him. He had silver hair plaited into braids down his neck, over his broad shoulders, and a long beard, white and silver too. He wore the clothes of an ancient soldier, far more ancient than the men in his previous dream. Here he stood looking like a Greek or Roman soldier from the days of the gods of mythology. The muscular man spoke and told him his name was Draco, and he was his bodyguard, the faithful servant of Prince Charmont. Apparently, that was who he was. 

This bronzed and broad man cornered him against the wall of the castle and kissed him, rough and hard, before he awoke, startled. What on earth...he sat up and stumbled to the bathroom, getting a drink of water and splashing his face. It wasn’t that he minded that sort of dream, but about his therapist? A colleague? Will looked at himself in the mirror, and he was blushing a horrible shade of red. Goddamn it...he needed to sleep.

***

Another case. This time it was someone who tried to produce sounds from his victims. Will was very busy with that and Hannibal was assisting. He knew who it was and that the man had his sights on Will. It simply would not do. 

He'd planned on killing him, after dinner, of course, but the doorbell rang. Hannibal excused himself from Tobias Budge and went to answer it. It was Will. 

Will rushed in, tossing his coat over the nearest chair. “I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about the case, the cellist, and Alana came over to discuss it, and I…” he stopped cold, looking around. The scent of delicious food was in the air, and when he entered the dining room, the back door was open and two place settings were there, abandoned.

“Did I interrupt dinner? I’m sorry, looks like you have someone here already,” he said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. 

"I was entertaining, yes, but he has had to leave without having dessert. This is fortunate for us as I have dessert for two. Please, come in," he said, since Will was already inside. He went back to close the front door and hung up Will's coat. 

Next to Will once more, he smiled. "What prompted you to drive here, nearly two hours in the snow?"

Had Hannibal been on...a _date_ ? Will’s face changed, his expression hardening from one of innocent inquiry and genuine concern to one of suspicion and jealousy. It didn’t enter his mind that there was no legitimate reason for jealousy, no sense of ownership or _rights_ between the men that would merit the sentiment. It was there nonetheless. 

Sniffing, he set his jaw into a stubborn pout and looked at the dessert in the oven with a sidelong glance. “The case, as I said. Alana came by to discuss some theories with me...but I think now I’m more curious who was here visiting you, Doctor Lecter,” he said pointedly, both hands in his pockets as he strolled around the kitchen, watching Hannibal like a cat stalking prey.

Will was antsy, upset. Hannibal could smell it the way he could fear, blood, or that horrible aftershave the empath wore. It pleased him to no end. He went to begin making the desserts, watching Will without looking at him initially. "Are you, Will? What bothers you about it?"

Hannibal waited for Will's answer without answering the indirect question. 

Will sighed. He knew he wore his emotions on his sleeve, and of course this was Hannibal’s specialty. He was sure he saw right inside and knew what was going on. What was the point in hiding it. 

He just couldn’t. Not yet. He had to hold that card against his chest. It was...too much.

Sapphire eyes flickered up to the Doctor’s behind his glasses. “I never said it bothered me. Simply that I was curious. I didn’t have an appointment with you tonight. Perhaps I should have called first. Rude of me, I suppose. For that, I guess I should apologize,” he concluded finally, gauging Hannibal’s reaction. 

"No apologies are needed. Never apologized for coming to me, Will," Hannibal insisted, plating the dessert. He made sure to hold eye contact as he said the words. He meant them. The doctor slid the plate over to him, complete with the utensil. "Did Alana have any need to report?"

Will dug his hands deeper into his pockets, thumbing over a quarter in one as he strolled around the kitchen. “Not particularly, but I haven’t been able to get that luthier off my mind. He’s the only one with access to the kind of tools needed, and the skills and knowledge to string and tan cat gut the way the victim was.” 

Hannibal's face took on a look of concern as he waited for Will to taste the dessert. "Perhaps A good place to start is at the music shop on the corner of fifth and main," he suggested, picking up his fork. "The man I was just entertaining is the proprietor there. Tobias Budge. He specialized in gut."

Will’s head snapped up. “He was here? And he left? Did he...did he say anything that stood out to you?” 

The snow was really coming down, and Will knew that his first task tomorrow would’ve to see Tobias Budge.

"Only that he wishes to be...intimate with me. I do not know if he meant it platonically or otherwise, but he wants me to be with him, without question. He was not happy when I gave no answer in return. One might wager that is why he left," Hannibal answered, face betraying nothing. "But please, let us enjoy our dessert. I would not have you out in the snow again so soon."

Will could feel the heat from a rage that started in his belly and boiled upward. Jealousy. Who was this Tobias that he thought he could get close to Doctor Lecter just like that? Will didn’t stop to ask himself why he was jealous, when he certainly hadn’t been acquainted himself with Lecter that long, however he’d been slowly forming a bond with him, or so he thought, a sort of friendship. It meant something. 

“I should go,” Will said, distracted in thoughts that bubbled over and seeped out, his cheeks flaming hot as he felt beads of sweat form along his brow. He looked up at the doctor, barely registering anything about the dessert.

Hannibal set his fork down and walked closer to Will, sniffing the sweat and noticing the anger by his tone and the color of his cheeks. “I do not think that is the best thing at present,” he said. One train of thought wanted him to stay and partake of the dessert with him, but another, a more curious one wanted to see what would happen if Will left to go after Tobias. “Let me procure a nice bottle of wine that will pair nicely with the dessert and we can enjoy it by the fire.”

He walked off to get the wine, but he suspected when he returned, Will would be gone. An exit. One made intentionally to set the chain of events in motion. 

Will turned silently and walked towards the door, grabbing his jacket and heading for his car. There was no room in his mind for questioning if it was the right thing, or rude, or anything else. Weather be damned, all he could think of was justice and suspicion, and Tobias Budge was at the forefront. Plowing through the snow, he knew it wasn’t far to his shop.

He was surprised when he arrived, to find the front door open. He quieted the bell so it wouldn’t jingle, hearing the sounds of music coming from within. Someone playing inside, perhaps live or a recording? He stepped softly on the hardwood, one hand carefully on his side arm as he looked around. 

The music ceased and a few seconds after a tall, handsome man emerged out from the practice room. His face was set and serious until he gave a small, speculative smile. "I was just about to close for the night. How may I help you?"

Will looked around the shop, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose and between his brows as he squinted and grimaced somewhat at the man. Good-looking, well dressed, too well-put together, and Will was unable to conceal just how little he trusted the man. “Special Agent Will Graham, FBI. Just wanted to ask a few questions about some...well, a specialty of yours that’s come up in a case I’m working on,” he said, an edge to his voice. No point apologizing for the late visit, making small talk of any kind, pretending interest in anything else. He wasn’t here to make a friend. Unlike this asshole, with the unmitigated gall to show up to Hannibal Lecter’s house, trying to be his _special friend_. He sniffed and blue eyes looked Tobias up and down, waiting. 

“Cat gut. Yes,” Tobias nodded, guiding Will over to where he kept the ready string. “Its imported, for obvious reasons, but it produces a… clear sound. One that regular string won’t do.”

Pulling the wound up string from a drawer, he held it up. His sense of smell was keen too, but not as much as Hannibal’s. Still, it was enough that he could smell the ghost of the food he’d just eaten at Lecter’s home. “Let me show you a bit more, I have some drying in the back.” 

Nodding, Will followed. “Aren’t they usually made from sheep or goat?” he asked, following the man as he led him down a hall.

"Yes but the sound is not as rich," Tobias said as he lead Will to the room in back where there were several strings hanging to dry. "Have a look for yourself. Doctor Lecter can confirm the quality. He was amenable to my offerings."

Will felt his anger building. Amenable to his offerings? A flash crossed the recesses of his vision, and he stumbled, pausing behind Budge in the hall. Two officers, a pool of blood, the men garroted by the very strings made by his own hand. He wiped his face and shook his head, quickly catching up with the man and walking ahead of him to take a look. 

The first thing to catch his note was the smell; it was repulsive and acrid. The second was the size and length of gut laying over the sink. 

This was not animal.

Before Will could think too long, Tobias came up behind him with a set of strings, attempting to strangle him. He would not allow this inferior take away his work, or Hannibal. He'd make him see or kill the doctor. One way or the other. 

On instinct, Will’s hands flew up to his neck, fighting to allow for space to breathe. He struggled against the bigger man, but knew he was stronger. Reaching for his gun, he managed to disengage the safety with his free hand and prayed he wouldn’t blow his own face off. This was going to _suck,_ but it was a matter of life or death. 

Jerking his hand up, he aimed the weapon roughly as much away from his own face as he could and fired blindly towards Tobias. The deafening blast that followed was nothing short of an explosion, and he threw the gun in agony, hands flying to his own bleeding eardrums in pain.

Will managed to stumble away just before he saw Tobias run towards the exit, but everything faded to black before he could follow. 

As soon as he came to, Will managed to run back down the hall and out of the building, down the sidewalk and back to his car. Warm blood trickled down his neck to his collar, and he was completely deaf but for a ringing and a splitting,searing pain in his head. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed 911, screaming at the phone the details he could for the police to get there.

But it was already too late. Tobias had made it to Hannibal's office and both he and Franklyn, one of his patients and in a one sided friendship to Tobias, were dead. The office was chaos and the good doctor was bloody. 

"I'm glad you're okay, Doctor Lecter," Jack Crawford said as an EMT tended to Hannibal. "He killed a few of our men. Good men."

Hannibal's eyes took on a sincere look of worry. Had Will been among the ones slain? Had he sent him off to his death before they could ever find the answers they'd - he'd - been seeking? His heart began to ache until he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up and smiled, almost glowing when he saw Will Graham enter his office. Test passed and relief washed over him in glorious waves. 

“I don’t understand why he targeted you, Doctor Lecter,” Will said, too loudly still, as the medical workers took cursory examination of him. He waved them off, but his arm was clearly injured, and he knew his ruptured eardrum would need treatment. He glanced at Jack for any kind of reassurance, but could find none. Strangely, Hannibal looked very upset, perhaps more than he’d ever seen.

There were unshed tears in Hannibal's eyes. A rarity. He thought he'd lost Will and with that the chance to find out a world of information. He looked at Franklyn as he was zipped up in a body bag with convincing sorrow. "It was not me that he targeted, but rather my patient, Franklyn Froideveaux. He discussed that Tobias had been speaking on dark matters, things that lead me to believe he might be involved. Unfortunately, I was unable to save poor Franklyn before killing Tobias in self defense. I got involved when I, perhaps, should not have."

Will’s shoulders slid down, his stance softening when he saw the shimmer in the other man’s eyes. This kind of emotion and vulnerability wasn’t expected. Hannibal looked genuinely upset and concerned for his safety, maybe more than Will would’ve expected. Jack was worried too, but he wasn’t near tears. Of course, Doctor Lecter has just been through something pretty traumatic too. He could’ve died, or been more seriously hurt. 

Will leaned down and placed his hand gently on Hannibal’s shoulder. “I’m...im very sorry about this, Hannibal. I feel like I've dragged you down into my world now.” 

The hand on his shoulder, the way Will spoke to him, it touched him deep inside. "You needn't be, I got here all on my own."

He placed his hand over his, everyone else far too busy to notice and gave a small smile. "I was worried you were dead."

The sweetness of his hand over his sent a spark through Will he hadn’t expected to feel. Was it more emotions from the Doctor he sensed? 

“I...I’m very much alive, Ha... Doctor Lecter,” he said. He caught himself, nearly saying _Hannibal_. 

***

Beautiful, yet controversial music played by his own hands. Igor Stravinsky took a pause when the beautiful journalist Ellis walked in. He was his muse and even his wife Katia couldn't compare. Before he knew it, they were making out heatedly with the other on his lap. Hands went to the fly of his trousers and then he heard him. 

Will, calling his name. Hannibal snapped back to reality, his finger still on the old piano and he knew he was being stared at. 

"Apologies, Will...just a bit lost in thought," Doctor Lecter stated. It felt more than that as he stood in the empathic profilers home for the first time. "Do you play?"

It felt odd, intimate but not unwelcome, having Hannibal here. “That was my mother’s piano. It was left to us when she died. My father didn’t want it. I couldn’t...I didn’t want to get rid of it. Don’t play a lick. Just remember her playing when I was small,” he answered. His brow furrowed as he realized the melody was strangely familiar to him. Not like the one he’d heard before on the radio, but like some kind of deja vu. He stared at Hannibal, eyes slightly glassy, brows knitted in concentration, but didn’t dare ask him to play it again. 

Hannibal saw that look and he played the first few notes again. He had to see if he was interpreting it correctly. The doctor licked his lips, nodding. "I could teach you, if you'd like. I play many instruments and have a passion for it," he said quietly, watching Will. "I also understand attachment to things or ideas that remind us of our past. Do you know what an imago is, Will?"

Will shook his head slowly from side to side, his eyes drifting up to meet Hannibals. Then he felt it. A spark, unmistakable. Visions flitted through his head, memories from his dreams of the man he’d seen. Different versions of Hannibal, like bubbles touching each other where he passed through the seams. 

“That might be good. What’s an imago?” he asked, his voice far softer. He looked away finally, and handed the tumbler of scotch he’d poured for Hannibal to him before sitting down.

"Thank you," Hannibal murmured and then sat down next to Will, turning to angle his body towards his before taking a sip. "An imago is an image of a loved one, buried in the unconscious, carried with us all our lives. Sometimes only the concept of an ideal, others it is far more profound and can bridge gaps through time."

Will felt the air sucked out of his diaphragm at Hannibal’s words. “I..I…” he stammered, and stopped to take a drink of whiskey for courage. Could he say it yet? Liquid heat burned it’s way down his throat.

It was just a dream. It was normal to have dreams about people you work with. It doesn’t _mean_ anything. 

He wiped a hand over his face and set down the glass. “I think I’m just a little stressed from work is all, really. Sorry for seeming distracted. I...uhh...I know I for one am no one’s ideal,” he sighed, the exhaustion putting an edge on his tone. He was sure there were red rings around his eyes. He was sleeping through the night less and less lately. But spending time with Hannibal, talking with him like this, seemed his only comfort these days. 

"It is quite alright, Will. The work you see and know tries to invade your carefully constructed forts. Fingers tap away, begging for entry inside your mind as you lay awake in bed at night, listening to the tiny clicks of your blinking eyes. Sleep is wanted but not granted," Hannibal speculated with another sip of his scotch. Will was his ideal. His...destiny, in a manner of speaking, and each dream or thought was more proof of that. "Have you experienced gaps in time or perhaps woken up in places other than your bed?"

Will smiled. “Sleepwalking. Yeah, used to do that a lot growing up. I haven’t in some time. But I have been...well...dreaming vividly. A lot. About the cases, about work. I figure it’s normal though, just the stress probably. Don’t tell Jack,” he said sharply at the end, knowing Jack would only needle him about it and blow it into something it wasn’t. And heaven help him if Alana heard. 

"Your secret is safe with me," Hannibal smiled back, then winked. "I would have to agree about it being stress related. Fortunately for you, you have an excellent therapist."

But it wasn't stress. True that can be a cause but Will's reasons for his problems ran much deeper. Hannibal took another pull from his glass. "What are your dreams?"

Will leaned back and spread his legs, setting the tumbler of amber fluid between them and smirking. The question seemed ridiculous to him, phrased the way the austere, suave Doctor Lecter did, words curling off his tongue with such sophistication. “My dreams? Alligators, swamps, a boat in the bayou, surrounded in fog. Nothing very interesting, I’m afraid,” he hedged. He wasn’t comfortable showing his hand yet. He wasn’t even comfortable with the way his cheeks warmed up too much around Lecter much less telling him he’s been in every dream he’s had lately.

"Ah, yes. Dreams of home. I wonder if you would have the sweet peace you seek there or if the demons that howl and gnaw at you at night would still persist," Hannibal taunted, more to encourage than to provoke anger. Though rage could be useful too. He licked his lips, slowly, eyes trained on Will's. "Dreams tell us of our waking life. Sometimes current, others of our past."

“Our past. Hmm. What about your dreams, Doctor Lecter? You sleeping well at night?” he asked, taking another sip and narrowing his sapphire gaze. He licked his lips slowly, maybe more suggestion to the question and his mannerisms than he intended.

Hannibal's eyes were dilated as he followed the sweep of Will's wet, pink tongue. Delicious in any form. But he didn't want to eat him, even if he would be a delicacy to savor for weeks. "Very well actually. My dreams are wrapped in symphonies of their own making. Worlds I've experienced and yet not."

He didn't give it away but perhaps a nod. "I thought perhaps for our next session we mighy try something a bit unconventional, Will. Throwing knives can be more relaxing than shooting off a gun. More intimate."

“Some good old fashioned stress relief? That could be...interesting. And unconventional form of therapy. But I like it, and you’re not a very conventional therapist. Probably why I’m still seeing you, although…” Will drifted off, the end of his tone sounding wistful as his eyes wandered out the window. He caught his lip between his teeth as though he was trying to stop himself from saying something yet again. 

Hannibal smiled at that, nodding at the first rhetorical question. When Will stopped himself from finishing, he leaned closer. "Please, I insist you finish your thought."

“Well, sometimes these conversations feel less like therapy and more like...well more like just conversations between...well, maybe just _conversations_ ,” he confessed, and then looked directly at Hannibal.

"Excellent. I concur completely. Conversations is precisely what we are having, Will. After all, I do not visit the home of my patients."

Hannibal held their eye contact for as long as Will would allow it, his amber gaze reaching out in a way that was intense and longing. Friendship. Possibly more one day. 

Will smiled then, a soft smile, genuine. He felt more relaxed, and if it was the whiskey or Hannibal’s company, he didn’t really question it. That in and of itself was a first for him. He let down some more of his guard. Little by little. Maybe Hannibal truly did see and understand him, but he felt more at home with this man than he ever had with anyone before. 

“Thank you, Doctor Lecter,” he finally said, simply, but everything was there in his eyes.

***

Will had fallen into another deep sleep, and his dreams were coming more vivid than ever before.

He was hunched over an instrument, examining carefully, nimble fingers making adjustments he instinctively knew. He was comfortable, at peace like this, but this wasn’t a boat motor, it was a lens. One you look through - big. He pulled back and looked up. A telescope.

“Hello, gorgeous. You ready for lunch?” The voice behind him rasped, heavily accented. The smell of cigarette smoke, bourbon and something intoxicatingly masculine - cologne? wafted towards him, and he felt a large, possessive hand on his waist.

He turned sharply with a gasp, cheeks coloring as his body seemed to respond to the touch in a way he didn’t expect in his wildest dreams. His heart pounded, pulse raced, and he felt a wild kind of happiness spread through each limb.

He blinked slowly and gave the mysterious man a small but genuine, honest smile. “I’d like that. I’m very hungry,” he said, and just then, his stomach growled loudly. Normally he might’ve been embarrassed by that, but now he simply thought it made sense, seeing as how he hadn’t eaten in hours and his stomach was in fact currently empty.

That’s when he realized he was explaining this in excruciating detail as they walked to the man’s car.

“Since the abdominal walls are made of muscle, the sounds we hear are related to the movement of food, digestive juices, and air through the intestines. When your body is processing food, your intestinal muscles contract and the sound of air and liquid moving in a confined space makes the ‘growl’. It’s much louder when your hungry because of the empty space in your stomach, like the way sound echoes in a room when you remove the furniture,” Will explained, waving his hands.

He was excited to share his knowledge, and eager for this man, who gave him such a positive sexual response, to get excited too.

“Really, angel? Well, it won’t be empty for long. I’m taking you for your favorite. Mac and cheese,” the older man said, opening a car door. God damn...not just any car. A black 1946 Maserati A6.

Will turned and gave him a better look just then; sure enough. Another Hannibal doppelgänger. This one was ruddy, darker, older, with blond and silver hair, more muscular, and sporting a tattoo on his neck, a dancing girl. He had his hair slicked back and wore high waisted dress pants and suspenders with a chain, like a gangster right out of some 1940’s movie. He stared a little too long before the man leaned in and kissed his lips hard.

Holy shit.

It was deep. It was unquestionably hot. It was probably the best kiss of his entire life. The man’s tongue slid inside his mouth with the familiarity of a lover who knew him inside and out. It was warm and loving, insistent, possessive and confident, and Will felt his body melt. He clutched for the man’s shirt helplessly and heard and actual whimper escape his lips.

“Oh I know, Iubitul. Time for more of that after lunch,” he grinned as he pulled away and turned him to the passenger seat. The man looked around, as if to determine if anyone had been watching. 

Will caught a glimpse of himself in the car’s reflection and did a double take before he got in. He was clean shaven, his normally unruly curls combed neatly and flat, and wearing a nice sweater and slacks. He too, looked older. Salt and pepper in the edges of his hairline.

He looked over at this Hannibal in the driver’s seat, and for some reason fixated on the fact that one of the latches on his gun holster was broken. It didn’t phase him that he was carrying a gun, but it seemed very unsafe to use a broken holster. Statistics began to permeate his thoughts regarding the likelihood of accidental deaths related to not practicing gun safety. Then he blurted it out. 

“You _have_ to…”

“I’m doing it now, Adam. It’s ok,” the man smiled patiently. He removed the piece and relocated it to the glove box. There was nothing but love in his eyes, and he reached over and squeezed his hand. 

_Adam_?

_Who_ were they? _Where_ were they?

***

He never remembered having such a specific desire for one particular kind of food before now, but finishing up the plate of penne al formaggio, he felt incredibly sated. He also was realizing for whatever reason, in this dream, Hannibal was calling him Adam, and apparently Hannibal was some sort of wealthy gangster named Nigel. The minute the two men had walked in the restaurant, people were knocking themselves out to make way for him and do as he asked. Pretty much like real Hannibal except if he killed people for a living, smoked, cussed, and inexplicably had tattoos.

“I got you something, Iubitul,” Nigel said, the edges of warm, amber eyes crinkling up as full lips curled into a smile and he handed Will/Adam a small box. 

“Were there supposed to be presents? I-I didn’t bring you anything,” he said uncertainly, and it struck him in the back of his mind as such an honest and vulnerable confession to make.

“You know me. Hopeless fucking romantic. I saw it in a shop window and it reminded me of your eyes,” he answered, high cheekbones going red with a blush not normally seen on a man who’d been with someone as many years as they’d been together. How long was it?

“Nineteen years, five months and twelve days, since our first kiss. I remember,” Adam said, though that question hadn’t been spoken aloud, and there it was. A brass pocket watch with blue, gray, green and amber stars in the background, forming a constellation in tiny diamonds.

“A practical gift, useful, but romantic, yeah?” Nigel said, taking Adam’s long, slim white fingers in his hand. He kissed each one like he knew that hand so well, and Adam closed his eyes, savoring the feeling.

It was love. Whole and complete in a way he never known. When he opened his eyes again, the older man across from him beamed at him. His chest ached with joy, and he smiled back.

“You’re like...you’re like a part of me. I love you. I love you so much.”

“Te iubesc, draga.”

They walked out into the street, and though he knew it wasn’t a good idea, Adam slipped his hand into Nigel’s, fingers lacing together. As they made their way back to the car, he heard a sound behind them that made his spine lock in fear.

Then, a gunshot.

Nigel fell to the ground beside him like his legs had been shot out. His eyes stared up glassily at Adam, mouth moving wordlessly like a fish.

Inexplicably, none of Will’s police training rose to the surface at all. His ears rang in a blinding panic that started at the periphery of his mind and closed in.

Blood pooled around Nigel’s head as he lay on the ground, and the sound of boots on pavement grew louder and louder until a man was upon them and a gun was in his face. He was shouting at Adam, but he couldn’t understand him. His mind was static, fear, body paralyzed.

Will woke up screaming, covered in sweat, and sat up immediately, the sensation of a crushing grief in his chest.

What the _hell_ was that dream?

***

For their next session, Hannibal invited Will to his home. In the courtyard he had set up throwing knives, as well as a few targets. He was skilled at that himself, but he wanted to recreate one of the dreams he had. He needed to see if it would impact Will in some way, since he was reluctant to open up about that topic, which alone was significant. 

The meat for dinner was marinating, which he intended on preparing afterwards. Dressed somewhat casually, grey trousers and a red sweater, he went to the door when he heard it. He opened it and smiled. “Hello, Will. Right on time. I do hope you’re hungry. After our activity, I would very much like it if you would join me for dinner.” 

Will was still reeling from the vivid strangeness of his last dream, but welcomed the fact that this activity Hannibal had proposed was an active one that allowed him to focus on being present and in his body. Often when they sat across from one another, deep in the forest of conversation, he’d find himself tangled in the vines of intertwining thoughts with difficulty sorting out what were his own thoughts and feelings, and what were those of others. 

“You know, I’ll never turn down good food, even if do need last minute education on what you’re feeding me,” Will quipped sarcastically, smiling as he glanced up at the man. God, why the hell did Hannibal always look so well put together, and had he always been so handsome? Will could feel his heart speed up in his chest, and mused about how much it seemed like an echo of that feeling he had in his dream.

Hannibal smiled at that, looking at the way that Will was looking at _him_. “I’ll try to improve my lessons then,” he said with a wink, then gestured for him to follow. He lead him to the courtyard where he had everything set up, and pushed his sweater sleeves up to his elbows, exposing thick corded forearms lined with veins under tawny skin. He had even gone as far as to have a few torches lit, a bit of primal fire to match what he’d dreamt, with some soft music playing. He grabbed an apple from a wooden bowl, near an array of fruits that set atop a vintage table. “I think you should start, hm? Set the standard for our exercise.” 

Sharp fangs bit down into the red apple, an audible pop of skin and a crunch following as Hannibal eyed Will curiously and with interest. Would he remember? Had he had the same dream or was it all an inconvenient coincidence to match the compassion and attraction he felt for the empath. 

Will’s eyes followed the lines of Hannibal’s arms, the veins on dark, tanned flesh, up to the elegantly crooked teeth that penetrated crisp fruit. “Alright, though I confess, I’ve never exactly done this before, that I recall,” he said with a chuckle. “You might want to stand back.”

As he picked up the knife, another spark shot through his fingers, as though he’d been walking on carpet and touched a doorknob. Strange, but he shook it off. Focusing on the board in front of him, he took aim, and tossed it, end over end, almost effortlessly. A shiver went up his spine as it found its mark in the center of the board, and he felt dizzy for a second. Wobbling, he reached to hold the table. “Oh…”

This was far too familiar to be deja vu. But it felt like it. He had done this before. In this exact manner. Was he just remembering it from his dream? The line between what was real and what was in his mind felt as though it was blurring more and more. 

Hannibal watched, his brows lifting in surprise and yet it wasn't a shock. Something stirred in him and a full on vision of the hint if a dream he'd had before occurred. It was only a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. 

Without a word, he picked up a knife and aimed, the blade stuck right into the end of Will's knife. He looked at it, then over at Will, stepping closer with a lick of his lips. In a deep, honeyed tone: "Well done."

Will stopped, feet frozen, planted where they were. How could he have known those were the exact words spoken in his dream? 

“Thank you,” he said, uncharacteristically formal and polite, his mind distracted with his own thoughts on what exactly was going on. Where to even begin? Was it a fluke? Quantum physics? 

"Of course," Hannibal murmured, closer still. He felt it too, the heat of their connection, the spark of recognition. It was perfect and euphoric all at once. His hand went to Will's shoulder. "Do you feel that?"

His question, while referring to his goal, could also be taken as one simply of therapy. He wanted to see how Will would take it.

Will gasped, as if startled, and looked at Hannibal’s hand, though he didn’t move out from his touch. He met his gaze slowly. “I feel...something, though I’m not sure what it is. It’s like I’ve...like I’m trying to remember something that I can’t. I’m probably just working too much. Don’t tell Jack,” he laughed, looking at his shoes finally and blushing with embarrassment.

"I shall not whisper a word." Hannibal smiled, watching. 

Deflect. Avert. Distract. The walls came back up just slightly, but not all the way. Will found more and more he felt the need for them crumbling with Hannibal. Especially after all these dreams.

"I can help you, Will. There are ways to remember…" Hannibal mentioned, then gave Will's shoulder a squeeze before letting go. He could tell the walls had come back up, but maybe a nice dinner would help. "Come. Dinner will not take long. We can resume here afterwards. Wine?"

“Alright, yes,” he nodded. His fingers ran experimentally down the edge of one of the blades, staring thoughtfully at it before he turned to follow Hannibal.   
  


***

The cello, Hannibal listened to it early and often but this was different. He was just outside of the music hall, not yet inside, and he was surrounded by smoke. Ah, a dream? He wasn't sure, but he looked at his hand and sure enough a cigarette rested between his two fingers. Another puff. 

He inhaled and oh yes, so fucking good. Did he just think…? Hannibal exhaled and leaned against the brick wall. He looked down. Atrocious. A light blue shirt with...dogs on it. But it was so comfortable. 

Before he could decide to go home and change he caught a glimpse. _Will._ No, not Will. Upon further examination it looked to be him but younger, combed curls, better clothes. He was seeking and yet not meeting the eyes of anyone else. 

Unable to stop himself, he heard the words, "Well, hello, gorgeous," he said, as long blond strands fell into his eyes. "You lost, darling?"

It was as though he was unable to stop himself. A passerby nodded and spoke to him in Romanian about a deal working out. Called him Nigel. Nigel nodded and shooed him away. 

Hannibal was _fascinated._

"Yes. This is not where I was supposed to be. I took the wrong bus. I'm Adam, Adam Raki. Harlan says shaking hands is proper protocol when you meet someone."

The dream moved forward then, he and this version of Will, Adam, lived together. They were in the shower now. Steam rose around them, and he backed him against the wall, planting long hot kisses on his lips, working down to his neck, where he latched on. His cock was hard and leaking. 

"Fucking love you, Adam. Not even death can keep us apart."

Hannibal woke up, his cock tenting the sheets, he licked his lips, all but panting. Incredible. His heart was fuller than before. He needed to see Will at once. Fortunately, he only had to wait until seven thirty. 

***

Will felt entirely out of sorts again, yet another night of fitful sleep behind him. It was time for his appointment with Hannibal, but these visits were feeling more and more like coming to see a friend. Something in the back of his head told him he should consider that a red flag, mixing business and pleasure - was that the right word? - but he felt too inexplicably eager to see the man to stop and question it right now.

He ran a hand through messy curls and knocked on the door. 

Hannibal opened with a smile and once Will was inside, he closed the door. They talked idly for a few moments. But small talk wasn't neither of their fortes. There was something hanging in the air, cloying between and on them. The good doctor looked at Will, perched so beautifully near the ladder to the second floor and stepped closer, slowly. 

"The conversation on your tongue...it doesn't taste right, does it, Will? There is something else lingering there, something that clicks on the tracks of your mind. A ride you cannot seem to escape from as the cart rolls up and down the curves of your mind." 

Stepping closer, a foot between them, he met Will's eyes, wetting eager lips as his gaze flicked back and forth. "What is it?"

Will’s eyes flitted to Hannibal’s glistening lips, and the image flashed in his mind, the rougher, more tanned, broad, foul mouthed, smoking man in his dreams that held his affections so deeply, one that knew every inch of him intimately, so different from Hannibal and yet very much identical. He sighed, and as he did, felt lightheaded. He needed to breathe, needed air, and he reached back for the ladder to steady himself. “I...I don’t know...exactly,” he lied, trying to buy himself a moment to gather his senses, but every second in Hannibal’s sphere, he felt more and more of his control crumbling. The walls. 

The body language was certainly there but how would Will take it? Hannibal leaned closer, placing his hand on his jaw, tips resting resting just below the velvety lobe of his ear. He could feel Will's pulse, smell burgeoning sweat and arousal, and the softness of his curls. Just a whisper. "Perhaps I can inspire you then," he murmured, smooth and rich, like overturned honey. He pressed his body against his, their forms slotting together perfectly and then he kissed him. A gentle seal, his tongue slipping out enough to taste his lower lip as he begged for further entry.

For one second, there he was: tangled in the hot embrace of his friend, pressed against the strong, firm chest, the taste and warmth and feel of soft, full lips mirroring that of his dream. Was it a dream? This certainly seemed like it. The firm tongue gently prodding the seam of his lips broke his reverie, and he realized he was indeed, awake. 

Will broke away, before it could go any further, shaking slightly as his elbow hit the side of the ladder. “...Hannibal…” he whispered. “What… I,” he stammered, confused. 

Will moved away from Hannibal then, cheeks blazing red. 

Hannibal stepped back, respectfully, his composure returning even quicker than it had departed. Not exactly as he had hoped but not a surprise either. Will, he knew, was predisposed to self denial and guilt. The doctor was aware that the profiler likely found himself undeserving of such affections. 

"I apologize, Will, that may have been impulsive, but I do not regret it in the slightest."

Will was confused, the feelings from his dreams and reality colliding. He shook his head and glanced up at Hannibal, the apples of his cheeks still burning. “I probably gave you the...the wrong impression. It’s ahh… it’s my...I apologize, Doctor Lecter,” he said quickly. 

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Will," Hannibal stated placidly. He smiled and walked over to his desk to take a seat, giving Will space. Denial. When would he finally embrace his nature and the truth? Other measures would need to be taken but he was nothing if not patient. "Would you like a drink?" 

“No...I should be going, actually Doctor,” Will answered quickly. He turned and retrieved his jacket, heading for the door. 

Hannibal didn't try to stop him. "Good night, Will."

“Thank you, and I’m … I’m sorry,” Will said, refusing to look up, and he strode out, red faced. 

***

Will needed to get his mind back on the case, and off his Doctor...especially in _that_ way. He decided it was time to go have a chat with the former Doctor Gideon, and contacted Doctor Chilton at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane to arrange an interview. Focusing on the Ripper case would get him on track.

The day arrived, and he took the steps up two at a time, stumbling slightly on his way up, and caught himself. Hannibal’s face as Nigel flitted through his vision, as he pictured him standing at the top of the steps, smoking, leaning casually against the brickwork, and he shook his head and wiped his face, pausing before he entered the large, imposing building.

Will told the woman at the front desk why he was there, and she ushered him back to a waiting area and told him and orderly would be out to take him to see the man soon. He sat down with a long sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself that time to clear his mind. 

In walked an orderly, shorter than Will, but maybe a tad more cut. Short dark brown locks, and wild blue eyes drank him in as he approached. For such a sturdy young man, his voice was soft when he spoke, nearly a whisper as he smiled. "Mister Graham?" He began, twirling his key twice. "Come with me."

Will was startled by the surge of energy that seemed to vibrate off the young man. He was friendly enough, but like a live wire under a blanket. It was all in his eyes, from the way he took every bit of Will in within moments, to the electric way he casually twirled his keys. 

Will ducked his head to avoid drawing too much attention to what he noticed, and simply gave a curt nod and smile. “Of course. Thanks.”

"Matthew Brown," Matt said, wanting Will to know his name. He knew his. He'd been researching him anyway. The orderly could see and feel the strength, the magnificence that radiated off of him. He stopped down and forcefully met his eyes, grinning. "Right this way, Mister Graham."

He introduced himself? Very odd. 

“Ahhh...nice to, uh, meet you, Mister Brown,” Will answered awkwardly.

Once they were walking, Matt seemed to walk confidently. There was power to it and oh he felt that way, especially near _him._

"You're here to talk to Gideon. But he isn't who you want…" 

Will furrowed his brow as he met Matthew’s pace. “No? Who is it I want?” 

“You’re...looking for something. Someone. A companion. I’ve read about you… in the papers, Mister Graham, you’re a very articulate man,” Matthew said, as they went to the stairs to begin their descent. “People don’t understand much about me, or you, but I think we can understand each other. There’s just something that we don’t have, or maybe evolved not to need. Like losing a vestigial tail or being born without an appendix.” He stood closer to Will at the bottom of the stairs, speaking quieter. “You’ve been hiding in the FBI, but it’s not a surprise that they haven’t found you, you’re here looking, but you don’t have to be.” 

Will met the younger man’s intense gaze at last. Understanding. Knowledge. Both were beset by what was certainly a form of mental illness that the young orderly kept concealed enough to hold down this job, and it was a convenient job to have with the sort of proclivities Matthew Brown must have. 

“You’ve chosen a great place to hide, too. Plain sight,” he replied, keeping his voice just as low.

“But why do I interest you so much?”

“When you spend time in a mental hospital, you pick up the drill,” Matthew began, his eyes keenly tuned into Will. How wonderful it was to be so close to someone so magnificent, someone so much like himself. “It’s not hard to pass as an orderly, even after getting out. They don’t always suspect that you’ve even been in one before.” 

A pause, then Matthew looked up at the wiring. “Don’t worry about that. I’m the one who set the mic up, and disconnected them, as they currently are. As for why…” Matt took a breath, licking his lips. “You ever see the way smaller birds will mob a hawk on a wire? You and me… we’re hawks, Mister Graham.” 

Will hid his surprise well at Matthew’s actions. “Hawk’s aren’t pack animals. They work alone. I’m curious, if we’re hawks, why would we need one another? Wouldn’t we work just as well...on our own?” he sniffed as his eyes lowered, watching Matthew’s lips. He had no attraction or desire for this stranger, and yet clearly the other man was drawn to him.

“That's their weakness. Enough of those little birds get together and they chase hawks away. Imagine if the hawks started working together, if _we_ came together,” Matthew whispered, almost seductively. It was a temptation, but also an offer as he stood ready to open the gate so he could escort Will to Abel’s cell. He wanted Will, had been seeking out that perfect mate, but he needed more information. A hint that Will felt the same, or something because he knew they were meant to be together. 

Disabling the camera, the boldness of Matthew’s words...clearly he was offering something. It was enough to spark Will’s suspicion now, and he’d be a fool not to follow the thread and see where it led. The fisherman in Will decided it was time to cast his line out. Dipping his chin flirtatiously, he looked up at him through his lashes. “Perhaps I already have a partner, Matthew. Hannibal Lecter. A Doctor, psychiatrist, one who is assisting me in my cases. Though I must admit, the attention is...flattering,” he said, lips quirked up at the ends in a smile. 

Matt grasped one of the bars, leaning toward Will, bicep flexing. It was a show of strength, the way a bird would expand his wings to show off his feathers when trying to attract a mate. "Oh I think you deserve more than a psychiatrist...maybe it's time you have a worthy partner."

Obviously, Matthew had no idea who the ripper was, in all actuality he figured it might be Will. 

Blue eyes looked over Matthew, and he nodded. “Perhaps so. But I’d have to see what you could offer of course, before I’d accept such a proposal. You understand of course, don’t you, Mr Brown?” Will asked with a raised brow and a subtle cock of his head. 

How did Alpha males compete for a mate in the wild? One usually killed another. Victor gets the mate. So naturally, Matthew took what Will said as just that. Now why he wanted Hannibal Lecter dead, he didn't know, but it hardly mattered. With a smile, he opened the gate. "Perfectly…"

To Will, he’d laid a trap in an attempt to see if Matthew was the Ripper, or was working with the Ripper. He walked past him and the gate, down to where he’d be interviewing Gideon. This was proving to be quite a worthwhile trip. “Good.”

Matt caught up to Will, after having watched him, just before he got to Gideon’s cell. “Stay back from the bars, don’t touch him or pass anything,” he said, knowing it was protocol to do so, just like he knew Will already knew. “I’ll wait for you at the gate, Mister Graham.”

***

Hannibal was a man of routine. Wednesdays he enjoyed swimming at the gym in the large Olympic sized pool. More than the exercise, he was eager to see Will. Half past seven, per usual. 

Things were going well as he swam and contemplated, and all until another Male joined him in the pool. A younger man, well built and quick quick. Hannibal kept an eye on him from his periphery as he swam. Once the stranger had beaten him, he got out, the doctor noted and just as he turned to catch his breath, he was caught in the neck by a sting. 

Hannibal knew it was a dart but before he could remove it, the drug acted. He plummeted down into the depths of the pool, blacking out. 

***

When he awoke, he saw the very same man, and felt the binds over his wrists, tethering him to a makeshift cross. He also became aware of the blood dripping from them and the bucket under his feet which was keeping him from being hung by the rope around his neck. It was the orderly from the BSHCI. 

"You work at the hospital. Are you setting a new standard of care?" he asked, his voice strained and weakening from the blood loss. 

Matthew disregarded the question. "You know Judas had the decency to hang himself, " he said, eyeing Hannibal. "But I thought you needed a little help. You betrayed my friend, my mate to be...but I'm the one he wants."

A pause and Hannibal listened with amusement on his face. Matthew then asked Hannibal a series of questions using his pupils to check for honesty. Hannibal is the Ripper. Now he knew for certain. It didn't matter, Will was powerful and was murdering Hannibal by proxy either way. 

"Did you know that the phrase _to kick the bucket_ came from exactly this situation? You could kick it away now yourself and it'd all be over. Quicker than bleeding out. It's a choice. Life is about choices. Good choices. Bad choices."

"Hobson's choice. An old phrase. Do you really think Will will be pleased with your actions. That you will surpass me and what he and I share?"

"He's the one who sent me and if I kill you...maybe I'll become like you in his eyes. The Iroquois used to eat their enemies to take their strength. I know you're the real Chesapeake Ripper. Maybe your murders will become my murders just like your history with Will will become mine."

Hannibal looked into Matthew's eyes and with a dark and whispered tone:

"Only if you eat me."

***

Right on time. Hannibal couldn’t be perturbed with him tonight, Will thought to himself as he checked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He knocked on the door once more, but there was no answer.

Odd. He knocked again, and pressed his ear to hear for sounds, footsteps, anything. 

Silence.

Doubting himself, he checked his phone to see if he had the day correct. Hannibal was simply never wrong, and never late. You could set your watch by how punctual he was. But there was no mistake, Will was on time, right day. 

He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. Locked, of course. Something didn’t feel right, and while he’d normally dispute the ethics of breaking into his psychiatrist's office, right now he was more concerned about where his very punctual, always-on-time _friend_ was.

After a minute of picking the lock, he was in. Nothing appeared out of sorts. Everything was neat, tidy, so there was no break in, but Hannibal was very evidently not there at all. 

Will made his way over to Hannibal’s desk and looked at his calendar. Swimming at his gym, an exclusive club down the road, not far from the office. But that was scheduled for hours ago, and he should have been done by now. 

He was never late. Unless something was wrong. 

Will opened one of his drawers, dug around and found a small keycard with the gym’s name on it, likely a spare, and raced out the door, locking it behind him.

***

The gym was empty when he arrived, though it was still open. Using the card, he got in and went to the pool area to look for Hannibal. Nothing...at first. Then, near the deep end, a brief reflection at the edge, water droplets. Nearing, he saw a larger puddle. Someone had been using the pool recently. Was it Hannibal?

He made his way to the locker rooms, and as he neared, he heard voices, and the timber gave away that one belonged to Hannibal. Deep, muffled, strained. It was the second voice though, that made him draw his service weapon. 

Matthew Brown.

The window was fogged, but he knew it was the right room. The echo of the young man’s voice rang through the room as he taunted Hannibal. With one hand on the door, he kicked it open, both hands on his weapon. 

“Hands where I can see them, Brown! Up, up!” he said firmly.

Matthew smiled. In his mind it was all show, Will had to at least pretend he was going to arrest him. But he knew that he had won him. 

"Will, he's got a gun," Hannibal managed to say as Matt walked closer, preparing to shoot Lecter and that's when he felt it, cold at first, the. searing, combined with loud ring and pop. Matthew fell on his side to the ground, shot. 

It became clear to Matthew that he'd been wrong, but if he couldn't have Will, Hannibal couldn't, so just before he slipped into the darkness, he kicked hard, the bucket thrust out from under him. Hannibal kicked slightly, choking, and dangling from the rope around his neck.

Will rushed forward to Hannibal and pulled him up; it took tremendous effort, but with a surge of adrenaline, he hoisted him over his shoulder and cut free the noose with a knife in his pocket. 

There was so much blood. 

Hannibal’s blood.

The recognition that Hannibal could die spurred on a memory or maybe he was dreaming, but he couldn’t be. But he distinctly knew that he didn’t want him to die, it felt like he’d seen him do so before. 

Panic and grief swelled in Will’s chest in a way that seemed too much for the moment. While he did have this _gift,_ as the Doctor and Jack had put it, the emotional anguish he felt rising inside him was amplified, in the way one would experience seeing a lover or spouse in peril. More than just a friend, co worker, or associate. It was confusing, and spun his head dizzyingly. 

He called the police, and as he waited for the ambulance, he watched Hannibal, a time from long ago ever present in his mind. Hannibal had long hair, was doctor to a mad king, and he, an earl. They were in love, in secret, but eventually, Hannibal, or Struensee as he was known, as Will knew he was called, was killed. It had Will inwardly jolted. 

Before long, the police arrived and Matthew was hospitalized and promptly arrested. Hannibal however was barely clinging to life, and Will refused to leave his side. He tended to him, watched him, one might say he was treating him with kid gloves. 

Hannibal saw Will there, when he would wake periodically, but days passed before he could muster the energy to stay awake for more than a few minutes and be fully present. He had been given blood, tested, and stitched. It was touching, he thought, seeing that Will had not left his side. It was clear then, not that he had had doubts, that he had not sent Matthew to kill him by proxy. 

That thought had him smiling as Will slept in the chair next to his bed. A nurse came in to check Hannibal’s vitals. “Hello, Doctor Lecter,” Nurse Summers said. “I just need to get your vitals, but look who I’m telling that too.”

“Of course. I promise not to put up a fight,” Hannibal said, his voice still rough from behind hung, but he gave her a polite smile. Then looked at Will who’d not stirred as of yet.

“He’s been here nearly the whole time. We made him go home to shower but then he was right back. He even had a friend of his check on his dogs. Doctor Bloom,” the nurse explained as she began working. “Your boyfriend is a keeper.”

Hannibal chuckled lightly, sensing then that Will might be awake after all. So he thought he would take advantage of the moment. “He is a keeper indeed.” 

Will had indeed been awake, eyes closed and listening in, but at that, they fluttered open. He couldn’t hide the pink in his cheeks as he sat up straight and ran a hand through his messy curls. He stood and walked over to Hannibal’s side, squinting at the machines and back at him. 

Were his eyes always so...arresting? They were very, very gold, and while he looked weak, he was very handsome, and Will felt a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding escape his lungs all at once. 

“How do you feel?” he asked, his hand reaching out to touch Hannibal’s arm. He hovered for only a second before finally making contact. Brushing a thumb over his wrist, he couldn’t help himself from the show of affection, though it seemed strange, out of place in some sense, it felt the most natural thing in the world. 

The nurse had made her way out, wanting to give them privacy, Hannibal deduced. He could see from the dusting of crimson that Will was likely grateful for it as well. But what took Hannibal by some measure of surprise was the affection. Though it was unbidden, it was certainly wanted, and the doctor felt comfort and sincerity in it. It wasn’t a sympathetic, mandated caress that a visiting friend would give when they came to visit another. 

With a dry swallow, he smiled, his eyes locking onto Will’s with pure awe and captivation. “Parched but far better than I have in days,” was Hannibal’s answer. “I am being released today. You will be able to return to your dogs and home, and while I appreciate the company, you look in need of rest.” 

The words grounded Will the way only Hannibal could, bringing him to reality. Routine, normal, real life, of course, it would feel good to get back to that. He took a small plastic cup with a straw from the side table and held it for him then, guiding the mouthpiece to his lips. “Please, try to drink a little if you can. They’ve got the IV going, but you need all you can get, I think. Just, take it slow,” Will said in a softer voice, watching the older man carefully as he took a drink just as he’d been instructed. 

“And...I don’t intend to just leave you like this. I talked to Jack, he’s going to let me take a little time off. I intend to stay with you, at least a few days, to help you when you get home. You’ll need an extra hand with meals and little things,” the brunet said, his firm jaw already starting to set in a stubborn way when he knew he might be challenged and he wasn’t about to back down. 

He didn’t know why he felt so inclined to do this. It wasn't an obligation, and it felt like more than something one friend would do for another. He cared. It was an uncontrollable pull in his chest. A swell that wouldn’t allow him to turn away.

“I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t know you’re alright,” he whispered hastily, regretting the admission almost as soon as it left his lips. 

Yet another surprise for the good doctor but it was obvious that he didn’t mind in the slightest. Hannibal licked his lips, looking from Will’s to his eyes. There was a calm to the room that drowned out the beeping of the machines. A peace and knowing was present without the need to speak words in reference to the feeling. 

“I would not wish for you to lose anymore sleep on my account. It would be an honor to have you stay with me, Will, and the help will be quite appreciated, thank you.” 

It was a relief to know Hannibal accepted the offer. He smiled softly down at the other man, feeling some kind of warmth in his chest at the response. 

***

After they arrived and Will settled him in, Doctor Lecter smiled. "Would you like a drink, Will?" he asked, noticing the fidgeting. Perhaps he was nervous, or maybe it was more a question of what was to be done next. Either way, while he could not partake, he would not deny Will that right. 

Will shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll get water. I want to stay clear headed tonight.” He was a little on edge, it was true, but it was more than just being alone in the house with Hannibal for the first time like this. He felt butterflies in his belly, a sort of nervous tension between them. It wasn’t unwelcome, it was just...different. 

“Very well,” was Hannibal’s reply as he looked over the lines and angles of Will’s exquisite face; every bit of skin, every dusting and bit of hair that were all part of his unique picture tugging at his heart. Memories of the lives they’d lived together danced behind his eyes as he peered with a curious love. There was a unique sort of ambiance, he noted to himself, unaware that Will was picking up on the same thing. It made sense though, their minds and hearts were tethered in an unshakable, unbreakable bond that even death could not sever. 

***

The first night was companionable, quiet; Hannibal still had to finish his run of antibiotics from the infection his wrists had gotten, and needed to rest as the pain medicine he was to take - while not overly strong - made him less balanced than usual. It was clear he was stronger and stronger by the hour. Will had managed to make some spaghetti himself, but future meals would require additional help from Hannibal, who was clearly more skilled in the area of culinary arts.

Hannibal walked into the kitchen, following his strong sense of smell and smiled when he saw the spaghetti and Will cooking for _him._ Affected by the pain medicine, he made a less than smooth entrance by accidentally hip checking an empty stainless steel colander on the floor. It thudded loudly, clacking against the elegant floor. “Apologies, Will. I am not quite up to par yet, but I am making progress,” he said, holding onto the counter as he moved to bend over and retrieve it. With a grunt, “It smells delicious. Thank you.” 

Will felt his chest swell with pride, though he knew there had to be a little bit of flattery in the man’s words. It felt good nonetheless. Seeing him stumble though, he quickly moved to help him, sliding behind him and bending with him to steady his gait. “I’ve got you,” he said, one hand on Hannibal’s hip, the other at his waist, his face clouded with concern. Fuck. He couldn’t let anything happen to him. The whole point of his being here was to make sure of that. “Why don’t you go sit down, Hannibal? I have everything under control here…”

The press of Will’s body against his own was worth the indignity of his mishap. It was sincere in nature, he knew, and likely nothing more than that which was a gift on its own. Will’s compassion, his empathy was evident from the way he aided him to the look in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said with genuine appreciation. He was alright, all in all mostly recovered, but Will cared for him, for his well being. It was as though he knew they’d lived lives before this one where he’d lost him. They’d lost each other and now was the time for a reckoning or better yet, a redemption. With a nod, reached out, rubbing his palm down Will’s well muscled arm. “Are you certain? I must admit I have not been on the other side of the counter in quite a while.” 

There it was again. A jolt of electricity that ran up Will’s body, like a lover’s touch bringing his body to life again. _Why?_ This was simply his friend...was it his dreams? He felt the heat climb from his chest, up his neck and cheeks, and he looked away, turning to the counter to conceal it. He wasn’t ashamed of his care, it was just his body’s reaction to the touch. 

“Please do sit at the table. I just have to find the salad tongs and we can eat,” he said, rummaging through a drawer. Locating them, he held them in his long pinky and picked up the two plates of spaghetti. “Come, sit,” he insisted. “Everything is ready anyway.” 

Will's insistence was sweeter than a litany of Angel's singing, more touching than any care he could recall receiving. He would not disturb their song and that it was it was. A melody for two, perhaps untitled but well formed. With an agreeing nod, he sat. The fine material of his chair curving to his posterior in a way he'd not fully appreciated until now. 

Hannibal watched Will, the determination heavy on his brow, the special way he moved and tended to him a work of art all it's own. It didn't matter if the meal wasn't as unique and perfect as he would have made, what was truly important was the love with which it was made. 

"I am sure it will taste as sumptuous as it looks."

The brunet chuckled, a rough, staccato laugh, not mocking but self deprecating. “It’s nothing like your cooking, but beats McDonald’s,” he smiled at Hannibal. He felt happy as he looked over at Hannibal. Sitting to a meal that he made with his hands, as meager as it was, eating with Hannibal, at his dining table, it felt good, right, natural. It felt like home. Familiar. There was a fullness in his chest that was something so strange to him. 

_Love._

He caught himself staring at Hannibal a few times as they ate the pasta. How handsome he was, the way the light caught the silver blond strands of hair that sometimes fell across his forehead. When the doctor smiled at him and made eye contact, there was that same electricity and heat he’d been feeling all along growing steadily. He found himself less embarrassed and more relaxed as the food filled his belly and they shared conversation with one another. 

“Delicious, Will. You made the sauce yourself. I think I even taste a bit of red wine. Am I correct?” Hannibal asked, taking a sip of his sparkling cider. Non alcoholic of course and a poor substitute for the real thing but it served its purpose. What was important was that he and Will were together. The food was good, better than he’d expected it would be, but the question and compliment was more a segway. 

“Yes, I did. I found the recipe in your file, and since you had all the ingredients on hand and it looked very simple, I figured not even I could screw it up,” he said. “And, thank you. Glad you like it. I have to admit, it’s not half bad for my first try. Most of my skill is with Jambalaya or frying fish.” Will took another bite, tongue darting out to catch a bit of sauce that lingered on his lip.

Bourbon stained eyes caught the sight of Will's seeking pink tongue, lingering before they traveled back upwards. He smiled, the corners of full lips twisting into a pleased gesture of appreciation. "Your hands are skilled, with practice you could get then to do a great, many things," he insisted after his last swallow and ginger dab of his napkin. "All one needs is a dream to start. On that note. Tell me, Will, have you had any memorable ones as of late?"

Fresh heat blossomed up Will’s neck at the question. It might have been the relaxed nature of their meal, or the new intimacy fostered by taking care of him now in his home, but Will heard the confession tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. 

“I have, as a matter of fact, been having a lot of dreams about you actually. Strange and very vivid,” he began impulsively. “We’re together, in different time periods, with different names, but it’s us all the same. Just...different. And it all...always feels so real, when I wake I’m very confused,” he said, and quickly took another bite of pasta.

Hannibal, finished with his meal, smiled. Confirmation. It was a love poem written, signed, sealed, and delivered. He had another sip of his cider. Will and he both were men of science, hard pressed to believe such whimsical notions but he knew this was different. "As fate would have it, I have had the same dreams, Adam," he said, intentionally calling Will by a name he knew or hoped Will might respond to. "Or should I call you Galahad or even Ellis?"

Will’s eyes grew large and his mouth dropped open, and he lowered his hand slowly. 

“N-Nigel...Tristan...Igor...even Draco...you remember too. Like they were other lifetimes we lived. Together as...mates. Lovers.” He blinked at Hannibal and reached for his hand; maybe if he felt his skin, something to ground him, he could believe this was all really real. 

"Yes," Hannibal agreed, his eyes glimmering with love that surpassed all convention and spanned over centuries. He reached out and took Will's hand, leaning to raise it to his lips for a kiss. "Fate and circumstance has brought us to this point. The love I hold for you, Mylimasis, cannot be destroyed by death or identity."

His mind spun wildly, questions, logic, mathematics, all of it dissolving under the warmth of Hannibal’s plush lips on his hand. Like a song he hadn’t heard in a long time, or a scent from a happy memory in his past, the touch set his heart alight. “I love you. I can’t understand how this is possible...but I remember you, and how you made me feel, what you mean to me. I lost you before. It...nearly broke me. But somehow we’ve been brought back. Hannibal…” Will’s voice broke with emotion as a tear formed at the cusp of his eye and rolled down his cheek. 

It was poignant, the tear that traversed down the warm curve of his cheek. Hannibal wanted to taste, own, and possess it. He felt a cloying need, a hunger to partake of the man he'd known for several lifetimes. There was a knowing sadness too, but in that, a chance for redemption. The heart that had been cold before was full and alive now. It beat out a rhythm that continued to convey the same name. "Will…" he reached out, letting go of his hand to gather the salty tear onto his finger. "Given our knowledge in this life of our formers, the roads have led here. We can make a place for ourselves in this world. Both of us, alone."

“I’ve felt so...alone and unknown until recently. But our talks...I feel as though I’ve never known myself as well as I know myself, when I'm with you.” Will rose from his seat and moved closer to Hannibal, walking to stand in front of him. Closer now. “You don’t find any of this strange? We are men of science, and it’s not logical but it feels right, as though it’s supposed to be, doesn’t it?”

"You and I have been alone because we are unique," Hannibal offered, looking up at Will, angling his body to face him better. He let his hands rest on the waistband of Will's pants, fingertips just lightly testing. He could all but smell the burgeoning resignation wafting from him as he - they - realized they were meant to be. "Some of the most beautiful creations in the universe have no known scientific explanation. Shouldn't two individuals as weird as we not have a love story that befits us both? Yes I believe we are meant to be."

Long fingers reached out to Hannibal’s face, and he cupped his jaw, thumb stroking over an angular cheekbone. Beryl eyes were set like gold and looked up at him so full of love, acceptance and reverent adoration, and no one had ever looked at Will that way before. “Whatever circumstances brought us to this moment, whatever forces are at play, I’m grateful you’re here with me now.” He threaded his hands through Hannibal’s silky hair and leaned down to softly brush his lips against the older man's in a tender kiss. 

Hannibal stood, in all his less than smoothness before, he was focused now and did not let their lips break apart. He pressed harder, a desperate kiss that had his heart pounding. It had all led to this. A sharp exhale through his nostrils was an answer that it felt exquisitely right. "Will…"

To have his affection answered so clearly made Will feel seen and understood in a way he’d never felt before, and it was clearer and clearer by the second that everything he’d experienced in his dreams had been memories and visions of his past. A past they’d shared together, and one that they would continue to share. 

He slipped his arms around Hannibal’s neck and gave in to what his heart and body demanded, opening his mouth fully with a deep moan of need. “Please,” he gasped, not even knowing what exactly he was asking for. 

Hannibal wouldn't and couldn't deny Will a thing, especially since their goals were the same. Each other. Neither could survive separation as each new life had proven. He slipped his fingers into soft curls, fingertips pressing into his scalp gently as he ate that moan, his tongue thrusting hungrily into the warm cavern of his beloved's mouth. "I love you," he said, in a pause for air, walking him back toward the stairs to climb them. 

Will could hardly believe this was happening, but it was real. He needed to feel every inch of Hannibal under his fingers, hands, against his own skin, just to make sure it wasn’t another dream. He turned away from insistent kisses only to climb the stairs up to Hannibal’s room, a place he never imagined he’d see like this.

Hannibal naturally had followed him, not quite as spry but as soon as he did, he smiled, then opened the door for him. "After you, Mylimasis," he murmured unbuttoning his shirt. He felt an urgency but likewise wanted to savor every bit of skin Will had to after, so once they were in, he closed the door and met his lips again. "I do not wish to rush you, Will, but I feel as though I might not live to see another sunrise if I am denied the honor of having you tonight."

“I won’t deny you,” Will whispered, pulling away only to shrug the shirt from his shoulders. He had to taste his mouth again, and he aggressively pushed Hannibal against the door, both still in breeches, his tongue finding its way inside the older man’s mouth to slide over and explore every bit. Nimble fingers wandered to a Hannibal’s waist to unbuckle his belt and work down his trousers. His palm found A half hard cock and while Will had never handled another man this way - not in this life - he was simply going on instinct...and memory. 

A grunt of lust rumbled from Hannibal, every bit of his body attuned into Will. Their love defied time, it truthfully didn't even require sex but they both wanted it. A consummation or perhaps proof for them both that they had one another now. The doctor let his trousers and boxers fall the rest of the way, shoes gone quickly, then stepped out. He reached out and began taking off Will's Clothes too, until they were both naked.

Moaning, Hannibal took Will's cock in hand and they stroked one another as they kissed like that for what seemed a blissful eternity. Guiding him to the bed, they collapsed on it, limbs and tongues tangling in a love cocoon of their own making. "I want to know all of you by taste and feel alone, Will."

Will rolled to his back, pulling Hannibal on top of him. Long fingers snaked across Hannibal’s broad, smooth, muscular back, planes of firm skin that he felt like he knew and yet, he wanted to learn all anew. “I do too. Take me, please,” he begged, thick thighs falling open as he looked up at Hannibal with adoring eyes. 

Gazing down through hues that very much appeared like blood stains on earth, Hannibal exhaled a breath. It was eager, yet patient, and measured. "I intend on doing so, my exquisite boy."

He reached over to procure a bottle of lubricant from his night stand, setting it nearby before he let the full weight of his body press hotly atop Will's. From lips to neck he traversed, his tongue seeking and tasting everywhere in between until he found a pink, pert nipple that he just had to savor. Would Will be responsive to it? Oh he hoped so.

Will gasped, his mouth falling open, a crimson flush against the timeless beauty of his face. His features looked as though they were carved from marble, and large sapphire eyes framed in inky dark lashes glittered in the low light of Hannibal’s bedroom. Silky curls spilled around his head, and he arched up, his hands skating down to grip tanned biceps. No one had ever done that before, at least in this memory, and the sensation was incredible and went right to his cock. A drop of pre come oozed from the head that lay heavy on his belly. “God, Hannibal...please... _more_ …”

"So very sensitive. What's to be done about that?" Hannibal replied, his tone deep and yet smooth, like a jar overturned honey. He moved to the other, not leaving it neglected, keen tongue tracing before his full lips formed a seal. Hannibal suckled, groaning as his hips began to gyrate, their cocks trapped between skin getting much needed friction.

He continued this for a while, then licked down his taut belly, nosing in the soft tufts of hair surrounding the base of his shaft. How divine he smelled, an image of pure debauchery, and an utter feast for his senses. Without delay he ran his tongue from root to tip, lips engulfing his thick, hard cock before swallowing him down. 

Will’s hands moved to the doctor’s head, tangling in silvery brown strands. One curled into a fist as he felt his body engulfed in the wet heat of Hannibal’s mouth, and gods, did he know what he was doing. Will writhed beneath him, his belly rippling as his breathing deepened, and he held nothing back, his throat growing dry as he moaned and cursed his approval. Hannibal played him like a skilled musician, like he’d known how to for his whole life, and even if he didn’t, he knew this would be the start of something they would do endless night in their conjoined future. 

Hannibal was lost in his scent, the rich heady ambrosia filled him, just as he would be doing to Will soon enough. He lathed his tongue against the underside of his cock head, pleasuring the sensitive bundle of nerves there as his hand rolled his balls slowly. 

After a few moments of that, he grabbed the lubricant and open it, popping off long enough to do so. Next, he knew he needed to open him up, so gently, he teased the rim of his hole, taking his cock back down to the base the moment he slid a long finger inside. 

A sound Will didn’t even recognize as his own voice came from deep in his chest when that slick, thick finger entered him. He turned his head to one side on his pillow and lifted his hips slightly, whispered pleas on the air hanging between them. It was beyond his imagination that all his dreams, everything he’d felt was real, that this man loved him and wanted him in this way. 

“Fuck, Hannibal, yes, yes, ahh...”

“There we are, Will. Just like that. Relax and let me take you to places you’ve never been,” Hannibal cooed, his deep, gravely voice a soothing, seductive tonic before he took the hard heat of Will’s cock back into the wet cavern of his wanting mouth. Usually kempt hair was messy, ashen strands tousling errantly with each precise bob of his head. It matched the rhythm of his finger and then two, as he opened him up in a manner in which he knew would give minimal discomfort. 

Once he had him prepared, he removed his digits, popping off of his cock to slick up his own. “Are you ready, my beloved boy?” Hannibal asked, kissing Will’s lips softly in the new position, one that lined not only his cock with his hole, but their faces parallel to match. 

Will took Hannibal’s face in both hands, opening his mouth over his in an answering huff of need, and devoured him like a starving man. He could taste himself on Hannibal’s tongue, but it only stoked the flames. “I’m ready, I… I honestly don’t know but my heart and mind are ready, so do it,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up in a sarcastic chuckle at his own expense. He honestly had no idea if he was ready, but he trusted Hannibal and his body felt like he was ready. 

That was all Hannibal needed to hear. He returned the kiss with an eagerness and passion he’d never felt before, at least not in this lifetime. It surpassed his love of food, music, and all of the finer things he’d grown very accustomed to. Loving Will beat them all and it even quieted the beast inside, providing he never betrayed him, though he was fairly positive that now that they’d found again, he wouldn’t. 

Slowly, he sunk inside, feeling muscle give way to accommodate his sizable cock. He exhaled shakily, his breath hitching and catching, keenly aware of Will’s every clench and gasp. 

Glorious. At last he’d found religion. “Ah...Will...you feel divine.” 

Will felt his body tighten and resist at the initial breach, and took several deep, shuddering breaths, eyes closed tight in concentration. When he opened them, there were those eyes again, like mirrors reflecting the best parts of himself, the only person he’d ever really felt seen and known by, his Hannibal. On an exhale, he melted around the other man and felt him sink deeper still. “Oh...fuck… yes, Hannibal...yes….” 

When he felt Will relax, Hannibal began to move, strong back muscles carrying him effortlessly. He withdrew a little, and then plunged back inside, way squelching from the lubricant audible. His balls thudded, breath hot as he kissed him over and over, tongues tangling and teeth lightly scraping. "I love you. You feel more beautiful than I ever could have imagined."

“You feel like home to me, Hannibal. This is where I’ve always been meant to be, with you,” Will rasped. Dull fingernails dug into the muscles of Hannibal’s back as he worked and scratched down to his ass, and he lifted his thighs further, heels crossed at the ankle. He gripped Hannibal’s flanks and squeezed to encourage him faster, his cock leaking against his flat belly.. “Harder,” he panted.

With a swallow and huff of breath, Hannibal Compiled, eager and love struck. He fucked him harder, so deep he could swear they were one unit. The bed began to hit the wall, the air thick with sweat and sex, sounds of moans and groans blending perfectly. "Will...ah, you were molded and formed just for me."

“My beginning and end is with you, Hannibal. It always has been. No matter where I am, there you are,” Will groaned, muscles taut, and his fingers slipped to Hannibal’s head to bring their lips together. He licked into his mouth, heated and ravenous, teeth and tongues colliding in a feverish dance. Every stroke tapped his prostate and drove him closer to the edge. 

Hannibal was close too, he felt himself nearing the edge there, the waters of passion swirling and churning, just ready to submerge him completely. He melted into the kiss, hips working faster, driving as deep as he could with the intention of making his beloved come first. He moaned loudly, much less reserved than usual and sounded very much like a beast in love. Perhaps because he was undeniably so; no one had captured him mind, body, and soul like Will. "Come, Will. Take me with you."

Will held Hannibal’s face in both hands, looking deep in his eyes as he came, his body contracting and throbbing around His lover. Time and space stood still and melted around them in a sea of stars, and he fell endlessly as his orgasm exploded through his very cells. “Hannibal…!”

At that moment, Hannibal was taken over by Will, his own orgasm spilling deep inside the ocean of his lover’s body. They were fated, destined. No one could take that from them. His body trembled and stuttered, his groans a cacophony of sounds all singing the same name. “Will…!” 

Together they panted, sweat and kisses shared between them, breath no longer separate seemingly one unit. It was beautiful and he knew they had found paradise. Once his erection went soft, Hannibal pulled out, rolling onto his side to hold Will in his arms. He doted on him, touching and gazing, catching his breath. “You are remarkable, Will.” 

Will caught his breath, tangled in Hannibal’s arms, kissing him. “So are you. Never leave me. This is where I have always wanted to be, I just didn’t know until now. By your side. We can get through anything together,” he whispered, a rough thumb rubbing circles in the older man’s greying, thick chest hair. “I love you, Hannibal. Now and forever.”

Together they could accomplish anything. Hannibal still needed to coax the darkness from Will, he needed to reveal his nature with time, though he hoped his beloved would see it on his own; he saw him like any other before and he Will. The main thing was that after lifetimes of misery, love, and pain, they had found their way back, they were one. Kissing him softly, he inhaled his scent, and smiled. 

"And I you, Will. _A love that is beyond time._ "


End file.
